The Five People You Meet in Heaven
by headcanonsfiringaway
Summary: Our story begins at the end, with Daryl's death. In Heaven he meets five people who have changed his life, or perhaps he changed theirs, and figures out what his purpose was on Earth. A tale of discovery that teaches him all strangers are connected and all endings are new beginnings. (STRONGLY inspired by Mitch Albom's novel of the same name) Rated K for Daryl. Caryl included.
1. The End

The End.

He was 55 years old on the day of his death. The children from Woodbury were all in their late teens now, a bunch of pains in the ass in his opinion. They were cute when they were younger, but now they were all brooding, pimply and horny as rabbits. Few of them were even having kids of their own, a bad decision if he ever did see one. Daryl knew if it were up to him, he wouldn't let anyone bring an innocent child into this gone to shit world. Maybe they were just trying to live as normally as they could with what they were given, who knows? Frankly he didn't care. Most of the people he cared about were dead. Sophia was his first big loss, Dale was next, then T-Dog, followed by Merle, damn that bastard went out in style at least, Andrea was next, everyone was fine for a while after that, before age took Hershel, Maggie got bit by her own father, and Glenn tried to live without her, he really did, and he survived a good long while as well, but eventually he couldn't do it anymore. Not after what started happening to the virus. They thought it evolved, people, young and healthy people no less, started turning. The fever would spread and they would go in their sleep, only to return as something else. Glenn couldn't stand that. He couldn't understand how their one chance at survival shrivelled up and died, he said God, that sadistic son of a bitch, was giving up on them, took away their last hope. Unpreventable and inevitable. So Glenn went to join Maggie, wherever that may be. A week or two later they figured out that the people turning had been drinking infected water, still Walker bits in it, and that danger passed. Daryl choked up as he thought about the most recent. Carol. When she passed she didn't turn, one of the Woodbury ladies, a doctor, had suggested a brain tumour had killed her, ruining her brain before she could turn, saying it would also explain the terrible migraines Carol suffered over her last few months. Daryl was somehow glad about that, when she died she was whole. No chunks were missing out of her, there was no bullet wound, or worse, knife wound in her head when she was buried. She had suffered enough violence in her life, Carol deserved to rest peacefully.

He snapped himself out of his stupor, it did no good thinking of the dead. There'd been more than enough suicides in the prison to prove that. Judith ran over to him, she was around eight now, her face was beginning to thin out. Daryl frowned at the thought, thinking of Judith as one of the hormonal teenagers moping around made him feel nostalgic for a time when he could carry her around in her lil' ass kicker box and all she would do is coo up at him. She smiled widely,

"Hey Uncle Daryl, you seen Carl?"

Daryl grunted under his breath, no matter how many times she said it, he's never be fully used to the loving title of uncle,

"I dunno, he's probably chasin' after Beth's coattails someplace 'round here."

Even after all this time the boy was still enamoured with Beth, the older they got the less the age difference mattered. Those two had been through so much together, they were all but inseparable. Judith pulled a face,

"You don't think they'd be kissin' do you?"

Daryl gave a short laugh and shrugged,

"It's possible."

"That's gross. I ain't never gonna kiss no one."

"I hope you don't ever kiss anyone."

Daryl softly corrected her grammar, trying especially hard to weaken his accent. Since Carol died, no one had really been schooling the kids properly, especially since the good portion of them were past schooling age, anyway, but Judith and a few of the other younger kids still needed learning, so Daryl did what he could when he could. Judith frowned,

"I'm just talkin' the way everyone else does."

Daryl didn't know what to say to that, so he just shook his head in disapproval,

"Why don't you go find Carl?"

Judith looked surprised for a second whilst suddenly remembering her reason for talking to Daryl in the first place before nodding and running off yet again. She was good at running, and in this world, she'd have to be, there'd be no rest for her, not until this whole mess was fixed, and Daryl didn't entirely believe it could be fixed, but he hoped. If not for himself, for Judith and Carl and Beth, who still had so much life left to live. He walked steadily over to the kitchen, he never liked it in there, it was full of people cooking and gossiping, two things Daryl decided he was very bad at, but he needed some alcohol to clean out a cut on his arm that kept reopening, so he went in anyway. There was a pause in conversation as he walked through the door, everyone stopping to make sure the person who they were talking about wouldn't be privy to their idle bitching, they all relaxed when they saw it was just Daryl and continued with their chatter, he walked himself over to the storage room quickly scouting what he needed, one of the men pulled him up,

"Hey Daryl, where are you going with the brandy?"

Everyone had been keeping such a close eye on him since Carol died. He hated it. All of a sudden everyone asked why he needed that knife, what he was going to do with that hand gun, why he wanted to go out hunting. He knew he was on suicide watch, this is what happened when people's loved ones pass away. When Carol died, people got worried he'd off himself, or drink himself into a coma, or give himself some kind of cancer with all the cigarettes he'd been smoking. It's not that he was above it, or that he didn't think about it, but in the end, he'd stick around for as long as his people needed him, and he didn't need no damn babysitter to make sure of it,

"To my room."

Daryl finally replied with a certain amount of resoluteness most people knew not to argue with, before walking out and making his way to his cell. He shared it with Carol for the past few years, they never slept in the same bed or anything, except on the really cold nights, and Carol did make sure there were a lot of them, but after knowing each other so well for so long, there was just a rightness about it Daryl couldn't explain. She always slept on the bottom bunk and he on the top, and some nights they'd talk, but most nights they wouldn't, it was comfortable and simple, and he'd even said to her once that if he had ever had love in his life it was surely her, she'd laughed and responded with a simple 'I love you, too', understanding him effortlessly, like she always did. He sighed, plopping down into the bottom bunk, her bunk. He'd taken to sleeping there now that it was vacant, mainly out of convenience, but also because it still smelt like her and on some cold nights he could almost feel her there lying next to him. He unwound the lid from the brandy bottle before taking a swig, then rolling his sleeve up to reveal the slightly bleeding stitches running up his arm, he poured the brandy over it carefully, as to not get any on Carol's mattress and winced slightly at the sting. Just as he begin to dab away the excess liquid, he heard a gunshot followed by a shriek come from downstairs that made his hairs stand on end and his blood run cold. Judith. He jumped lithely, grabbing his crossbow from the ground at his feet, sprinting down the stairs, he saw Rick just a few feet in front of him,

"What the fuck's happenin'?"

He asked in a angry manner, trying to disguise the fear behind it. Rick kept running,

"THAT WAS JUDITH. RUN."

The distressed tone in Rick's voice shook Daryl more than anything. They were both past their prime at this stage, and after sustaining quite a bad injury to his leg, Daryl hadn't seen Rick run this fast in a very long time.

"JUDITH!"

He hollered, hoping for a response, there was a moment of silence amongst the calamity,

"DADDY!?"

They circled back a ways to the cafeteria, Judith was cowered in a corner, a boy, no older than 18 was holding a gun in his shaking hands. Daryl recognised him, his name was Joshua. He was a good kid, yet in front of him his mother lay on the floor, a bullet wound in her head. Joshua turned, pointing his gun towards Daryl and Rick,

"S-stay back! If you move… I-I'll shoot!"

Behind him Judith was trembling in fear. This happened, not often, but sometimes the weight of this world was too much, and people broke. Rick took a careful step forward,

"Joshua, I'm going to need you to put that gun on the floor and slide it over to me, ok?"

"No! Don't you see, Rick!? We can put and end to this, here and now! My mom, she doesn't have to suffer anymore. None of us do! I just need to-"

"What? Murder us all?"

Michonne's voice was a welcome sound from behind them, Daryl saw her in his peripheral vision, hand on her sword, ready to attack if necessary,

"DON'T YOU PEOPLE GET IT!? We're dead already! I'm just trying to help!"

"Son, the only way you can help us right now is if you drop that gun."

Rick's voice was steady, but his eyes were constantly flashing over to his daughter. Daryl knew he needed to get over to Judith somehow, he slowly gestured for her to move towards them, she moved as quietly as possible, and almost made it towards his slightly outstretched arm when Joshua suddenly turned the gun on her,

"Judith, I know it's scary now, but you'll thank me later, I promise, I swear."

"NO!"

Rick yelled trying to stop Joshua, suddenly moving towards him in a flurry of movement, as if in slow motion, Daryl saw Joshua's finger slipping on the trigger, he jumped in front of Judith, blocking as much of her as he could, then there was a loud bang, and Daryl Dixon was dead.


	2. The Hidden Mother

_**Hello there, dears! Thank you so so so much for reading, reviewing, favouriting or following! I really appreciate it, as it motivates me to continue writing and helps me to improve. To address a problem, Daryl is depicted as 55 in this story because I imagine he would have lived to a good age, and in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, 55 ain't so bad! Basically, I wanted to give the image of him having lived a long life, having to experience some amazing and horrible things before his death.**_

_**Please enjoy the chapter!**_**  
**

The Hidden Mother.

You may be thinking it's strange that this story begins at the end, or Daryl's end at least, but Daryl's death was not his end, it was merely a new beginning, a new adventure, a new story to be told and as Daryl rose and rose and rose and rose, instead of realising the importance of this next mission, he instead wondered why Hell was such a long way up. His heart felt light and all his worries were flecks in the distance. He was floating in what seemed to be a whole lot of nothing when he drew to a halt, he didn't call out or ask where he was, because if this was eternal damnation it didn't seem so bad. He was just making himself comfortable when suddenly the scene changed, he was standing in what seemed to be a classroom, the whole scene looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it exactly, not until a voice called from behind him in a sweet and inviting tone,

"Hi Daryl, how are you?"

"M-Miss Kawchitz?"

His fourth grade teacher stood before him, looking exactly as he remembered, her slightly greying hair was pulled back into a tight French braid, round spectacles rested on the tip of her nose, giving her the impression of looking down on him, but her smile was warm an nostalgic, Daryl stared at her, trying to figure out what was happening, she laughed knowingly,

"You're in heaven, Daryl."

"Bullshit."

He replied without thinking, not believing her for a second,

"It's true"

She retorted steadily, slightly thrown by his abrupt swearing,

"If I'm in heaven, why're you here!?"

She pulled a face of faux shock,

"Daryl Dixon, are you trying to suggest I'm not worthy of heaven?"

Daryl became flustered,

"No, jus' why are you in _my_ heaven? It don't make sense!"

"It's God's final gift to you."

He scoffed,

"My fourth grade teacher is God's las' gift to me? What ever happened to the 62 virgins deal?"

"It's 72, take a seat, Daryl. Let me teach you about this gift."

Daryl slid into a chair that looked far too small for him, made for a young boy not a fully grown man, yet as he took his seat, his knees didn't even bang against the desk. He looked up, Miss Kawchitz was drawing in chalk on the board. There were six figures drawn one above the other, she pointed to the first stick figure,

"You see this one Daryl, is you, the five people above you, are the people you will meet here."

She sketched his name next to his stick figure, and her name next to the one above him. Jennifer Kawchitz. It was strange seeing her first name, it looked out of place next to the familiarity of her last. She smiled at him modestly,

"Questions?"

"So what? We're gonna be throwin' a party with four other people? When're they showin' up?"

"No, no. It's all one at a time. After I've taught you what I need to, you'll progress to your second person. We're here, I'm here, to teach you about your life. Put it all into perspective for you."

"Pfft, alright. Let's get this done."

"Do you remember the first time we spoke, Daryl Dixon?"

"Yeah, you were yellin' at me for not doin' some work or somethin'"

"No. The first, very first time I said a sentence to you, what was it?" 

A very small Daryl Dixon walked into his new classroom nervously. His dad had pulled him out of school because he thought Daryl was an embarrassment, to dumb to represent him in the eye of the community. Daryl shook with nerves, he didn't want the other kids to know how stupid he was. He didn't want them to think he was weak or useless like his dad did, he took the seat in the back corner, next to the wall, trying to take up as little space as possible. Trying desperately to not exist. A boy, much fatter than he was, took the seat next to him. Daryl suddenly felt self conscious, this kids hair was clean, there was no dirt on his face, he looked awake and well fed, the opposite of the small, scraggly, dirty Daryl. The kid glanced at him,

"Hi. My name is John Waters. What's yours?"

"…Daryl Dixon."

He mumbled under his breath, trying hard to avoid a conversation with John, who was obviously only out to make a fool of him. Merle taught him that, "only Dixon's care about Dixon's, everyone else is out to make a fool of you". John's eyes widened,

"You're a _Dixon_? I heard your brother once beat up a guy so bad, he had to have his arm removed!"

That wasn't true. Only his hand had to be amputated. But Daryl didn't say anything, he just nodded and stared at the door, waiting for their teacher to enter. He didn't like talking to people about Merle, they didn't get him. They all thought Merle was this big, evil guy who would beat on others for fun and put guys in coma's cause he felt like it. Merle wasn't like that, Daryl knew Merle was a good man, he always had a reason for everything he did, it was just that sometimes he didn't feel like explaining. John glanced over at him again, this time assessing him, wondering if the younger Dixon was like his brother. Daryl knew he'd never be as good as Merle, never as smart or strong, he knew that people always wondered how he and Merle could possibly be brothers, when Merle was so good at everything he did and Daryl was a failure. John smiled,

"Let's hang out at lunch, Dixon."

Daryl felt shocked for a second, before nodding once. He'd never really hung out with anyone before. He wondered briefly if he could make friends with John, maybe have a normal year at school. Make his Daddy proud. The teacher finally walked in, her face was round and kind, but her nose sharp and beak like with her glasses resting on the tip, she smiled with two perfect rows of teeth,

"Good morning class, I am Miss Kawchitz, and I will be your teacher this year."

"Good morning Miss Kawchitz."

The class replied, Daryl remained quiet, unsure of what to do. She reached into her bag and pulled out several sheets of paper, getting the children to take one and pass the pile along until everyone had a sheet of paper at their desk. The other kids pulled out their pencil cases, Daryl gripped onto the grey lead in his hand, his Daddy had chucked it at him that morning before kicking him out to walk to school. He looked around and then down at the sheet of blank paper, Miss Kawchitz addressed them,

"I want you all to write three paragraphs about what you did on the holidays. I've written up some useful sentences on the board to help you. I will be collecting in half an hour. You may begin."

Most of the class began quickly, their biros flying across the paper, excited to share what had happened to them over break. Daryl didn't have anything to write about really, he went hunting and got beaten. Those were the only two things that ever happened to him, and he wasn't really sure what a paragraph was. He looked up at the board, hoping the sentences on there would help him, but as he stared at them, the letters began moving around, he couldn't read them properly, they shuffled under his vision making him feel sea sick. He squinted at the sentences, managing to read the first sentence. 'I went to the…' Daryl gripped his pencil with the whole of his hand, painstakingly writing out the opening line. He checked over the sentence before continuing 'I to went the wodos'. He knew the sentence wasn't right, he could see it in his head just fine 'I went to the woods' but as soon as he tried to write it down, his mind got jumbled and confused. He grunted in frustration. He crossed out his mistake and tried to write again, gripping onto his pencil so tightly it broke in his hand. Daryl wanted to cry, his Dad would beat him for that, and for being stupid. What kind of ten year old couldn't read? He put down the broken pencil and let his head rest against his desk, ignoring the throbbing splinter in his hand. He could hear his Dad now "you're a useless sack of shit, boy. You ain't no son of mine. Get out of my house". Daryl buried his head further in his arms pretending to sleep until they were dismissed for recess. John walked over to him confidently,

"C'mon, Dixon, let's go."

He stood up and followed John out into the yard, they kept moving out and out until they were in the middle of a grassy oval. A bit further down, kids were kicking a football. Daryl wondered if they should sit, standing in the middle of an oval like this seemed strange, when suddenly John's fist connected with Daryl's jaw and knocked him to the ground, John laughed,

"I guess you're nothing like your brother then, huh Dixon?"

Daryl stood back up, feeling the embarrassment and anger heat in his face,

"What're you gonna do, cry? Pussy."

John spat at his feet. Merle was right, only Dixon's cared about Dixon's. Daryl lunged forwards punching John in the face, then grabbing the back of his shirt and slamming him into the ground. Daryl beat his head against the floor several times, making sure dirt was getting in his mouth, then he grabbed John's arm and twisted it around his back,

"Please! Please, let me go! I just wanted to… I just wanted to say I beat up a Dixon, I swear!"

"Eat shit, you pig!"

Daryl hollered, pushing John's face into the ground more firmly this time, he heard someone rushing towards them and then quickly grabbing him by the ear, dragging him off John's back. Daryl chanced a look behind him, Miss Kawchitz stared at him with sharp, disapproving eyes. She began pulling him towards the classroom, her hand tugging more forcefully than necessary until they were out of sight, at which point she dropped him and stared at him directly in the eyes, a concerned undertone to her harshness. And then she said it, the first words she'd ever said to Daryl, and they hurt him more than anything.

"I remember."

Miss Kawchitz smiled,

"So what was it, what did I say to you?"

"You said that I was better than that."

She nodded,

"That's right, and you were. You still are."

"So?"

Daryl didn't understand what any of this had to do with him being here, patient as ever Miss Kawchitz smiled,

"I need to apologise to you Daryl, that's why you're here."

"For what?"

She sighed deeply, staring him directly in the eyes just as she did all those years ago,

"I knew what your Daddy was doing to you Daryl."

Daryl didn't answer, he just stared back into her clear brown eyes. After he moved out from home, he had assumed that everyone knew that his Dad used to beat him to a pulp, it was a hard thing to disguise when he came to school with bruises every day. Most of them were hidden, but sometimes he'd get a black eye, or you could see a hand print bruised around his wrist, a split lip, things that were hard to miss but easy to ignore. Miss Kawchitz began to tear up in front of him, her bottom lip trembling,

"All those times he beat you when you came home from school. Do you remember? All the times he would shout at you and hit you until you were blue, then make your Mom watch?"

"Hard to forget."

Daryl managed to mumble out, it made him uncomfortable how much she knew about what happened behind the closed doors of his family's home,

"Well, one day he found out my address, Daryl, he found it and he came and spoke to me really late, it must have been eleven o'clock at least. He _stunk_ of liquor, I could taste it on the air, he pulled a knife from his pocket and yelled and yelled until he didn't make sense no more, then he put that knife against my throat and said "if you ever speak to Daryl again, or talk to the other teachers about what goes on in my house I'll cut you up and hide you where no one will look" and you know what I did?"

She drew a sob, Daryl shook his head,

"I said "please, please, hit the boy all you want just please don't hurt me" and I let him go home and lay his hands on you, and when you came to school with fresh bruises the next day, I knew it was because of me. All I wanted to do Daryl was let you know you deserved better, and that I could help you, but I never did. Because I was too scared and I'm so sorry."

Daryl took a stood from his seated position, he couldn't understand what she was saying. She took another deep breath,

"Then one day, I got home and I decided I wasn't scared anymore. Not if it meant helping you. So I called your brother, and I packed one suitcase for me and he packed one suitcase for you, and we were going to get you out of there, the very next day, I was going to ditch the school, probably lose my job, or worse my life, and just take you somewhere else, somewhere safe. But somehow, your dad found out, you weren't at school the next day, or the day after that, I tried going to your house but you were gone. Your house was gone. I had heard about her on the radio, the woman who perished inside her own burning home, but I never thought it was your house, your Mom. I tried calling Merle, but he never answered, then I looked for you. I looked for you for five years, you were turning sixteen when I finally found you. Taken up a job at a mechanics, figured you weren't living with your Dad anymore, because you were smiling. Good God if it wasn't the best thing I'd seen in my whole life! And finally, finally! I got my closure, but did you get yours?"

Daryl let her story sink in, and suddenly a lot of things made sense. His Dad didn't pull him out of school again, because now Daryl was a threat against Miss Kawchitz, and the more people he had power over, the better Daddy Dixon felt. When his Mom had died, his dad had made them skip town in a broke down caravan with only one bed, Daryl had to sleep outside most nights. His dad had kept cussing about how Daryl wouldn't be able to attend school. For the first time in his life, Daryl thought his Dad cared about his wellbeing, when really he was mad because he'd lost a person to threaten. And then one day, he'd gotten a job at a mechanics shop, they'd let him sleep there free, so long as he did his job properly. He thought he'd finally left his Dad behind, the scars on his back were healing, but he was wrong, he ended up back in that shit hole with his Dad, just like Merle always told him. So why did Merle trust this woman with his life? It made sense and no sense all at once, Daryl felt a question on the tip of his tongue he couldn't quite form, so he stared at her tear filled eyes and reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder,

"I don't understand. Why me? Outta all the kids with shit parents and nothin' to live for, why'd you have to choose me?"

Her mouth twisted up into a sad smile as he said it, she put her hand over his,

"Because you were better than that, better than him. You didn't deserve what he did to you."

Miss Kawchitz spoke with such sharpness and conviction, Daryl could feel her words piercing him,

"But I weren't no good! I was rude, I started fights with the other kids, I-I was dumb! Heck, I couldn't even read! Why me!?"

"But I saw beneath that, I saw a sweet, scared boy who beat up other kids and was rude to authority because it was easier than dealing with the pain of letting them in. I saw a boy who thought the abuse he suffered every night was his own fault and that he deserved it. And for goodness sake Daryl, you weren't dumb! You were dyslexic!"

"Dys- what!? Well it don't matter now does it?"

"It does. I could've helped you, and I didn't. I am asking for you to accept my apology."

"Can I ask you somethin' first?"

She laughed, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief that seemed to appear out of nowhere, her delicate, aging frame shaking with each breath,

"Of course, what is it?"

"Is it you who left me that one thousand dollar tip at the mechanics?"

She winked jovially,

"So that got to you safely, did it? I hope you didn't blow it all on drugs, Daryl Dixon."

In that moment, Miss Kawchitz was more of a mother to him than his own had ever been and he felt like crying too, for what could've been if she had taken him with her, to that undefined someplace else, where his Dad wouldn't be able to find him and Merle would still visit, where he would've grown up a relatively unscathed child, been happy, even. He gripped her hand, now underneath his attempting to make his untrained and awkward touch affectionate,

"Thank you so much, Miss Kawchitz. I forgive you."


End file.
